


What Remains

by azureavian



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Child Neglect, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureavian/pseuds/azureavian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred doesn't know how they get through the first few days. If he had time to stop and think about it, he suspects that they wouldn't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Remains

Alfred doesn't know how they get through the first few days. If he had time to stop and think about it, he suspects that they wouldn't have. Master Bruce is so young though, and needs so much attention, even for as well-behaved a young man as he is. He is much too young to bear up under the weight of the sudden absence of the parents to whom he was so close. Alfred himself was more a part of the family than a servant, and his grief was overwhelming when he stopped to think. It was good he didn't have the time to think.  
   
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Bruce sat on his bed, a yawning space in his chest where his heart used to be. There was a stillness in his body, not at all restful, that kept him from jumping up and destroying his room. He wondered idly if that was a normal reaction for survivors, so they don't destroy what they have left. He looked dully at the possessions in his room: the shining wood, the warm tones, more books than a boy his age usually needed, toys and mobiles and models of the things that used to interest him. He couldn't imagine ever being interested in anything ever again. He was chilled by more than winter, numb to the very center of him. Much too numb to feel the small, quiet ember, waiting for the rage to come.  
   
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Joe's hands shook as he pressed himself deeper into the shadow of the staircase in the abandoned building. All he had wanted was a little extra cash for a bottle or two. If his hands hadn't been shaking so hard, the gun wouldn't have gone off. It was the poshes fault, really. He just figured they were some doll and her sugar daddy, hadn't even seen the kid until the parents dropped. Oh man, he was gonna chuck up, he never killed nobody before. As his mind spun, he looked for angles.  
   
He woke to the grimy sun passing through the windows of the warehouse and newsboys crying out the mornings headlines. The Waynes? He killed the Waynes? He spared no more thought for the boy, he could surely use this somehow, this was worth something to _somebody_. Could be someone would pay for this. It's almost like a public service, people that rich needed to be brought down sometimes. People got too rich, it wasn't fair to the working man. Yeah, that's what he was. He ignored the fact that he hadn't worked an honest day in his life, he had an angle.  
   
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Mrs Chilton was preparing the household for the coming day when her employer, Mr. Wayne came into the room, "Mrs. Chilton, my brother and his wife have been killed. I must go to Gotham for serveral days and handle their affairs," He paused, "I will be bringing my brother's young son and his manservent back with me, rooms will need to be prepared for them."  
   
"Oh dear, the poor thing! I shall have everything ready when you return, sir. How old is the boy?"  
   
He gave her a blank look, "I really have no idea. He's still a child though, he shouldn't need much beyond a tutor or possibly a nanny," she felt a stab of sympathy for the unknown boy.  
   
"Just leave it to me sir, I've had boys, I can get him what he needs, with your permission?" He nodded and went about his business. She felt horrible, no child should loose his parents so young. And, while his uncle was a perfectly adequate guardian, he was a very busy man and traveled quite often. The poor duck would need all the help he could get.


End file.
